When Gears Grind: A Steampunk Pride & Prejudice
by theofoz
Summary: A one-shot retelling of the opening chapters of P&P, in which Lizzy Bennet leaves her barn workshop, which her sister refers to as the Palace of Mysteries, long enough to attend a dance. Her excitement that a fellow scientist will be in attendance is dashed when it turns out to be the proud and diffident Mr. Darcy. Just for fun!


_**AN: Just a little bit of fun with a one-shot, steampunk version of the opening of P&P. Just always wanted to try it! History purists, beware...**_

"Lizzy?" Charlotte called hesitantly, peering into the barn.

"Over here," came a muffled answer from inside the gloom. "Come on in."

Charlotte walked carefully into the dim structure, knowing all too well of the hazards that lay within. "What are you working on?" she asked, picking her way around gears, planks, and other debris toward the figure of her friend, bent over some contraption. As usual.

"Pump," Elizabeth said, around the stick clenched in her teeth.

"And what in the world is in your mouth?" Charlotte asked.

"It's a sort of quill," Elizabeth answered, sitting up and removing it from her mouth and twirling it in her fingers. "Too hard to use inkpots with machines, don't you know. It's a metal quill that uses a stick of lead to mark. Just a little something I whipped up for use in the Palace."

Her sister, Jane, had jokingly referred to Elizabeth's barn as the "Palace of Mysteries" once, and the name had stuck.

"And what's that?" Charlotte pointed at the small but very bright light next to Elizabeth's worktable.

"Lamp," came the answer, muttered around the stick again, as Elizabeth crouched back over the metal cylinder in front of her.

"Yes, Lizzy, thank you. I can see that. But what kind of lamp is that? I've never seen something so bright and steady."

"Huh," Elizabeth grunted, and Charlotte waited patiently, knowing it was difficult to distract her friend from a task at hand.

"Did you forget that there's an assembly tonight?" Charlotte finally asked, watching Lizzy's long, graceful fingers move over the metal. "I know it's not your sort of thing..."

"What are you talking about?" Elizabeth said, dropping the quill-like apparatus out of her mouth and wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand, leaving a trail of grime. "I love dancing."

"Yes, well," Charlotte said, clearing her throat, "I rather think you've lost track of time then."

Elizabeth noticed then that her friend was in her very best dress, looking anxiously around her as if the barn might infect her with dirt. Elizabeth pursed her lips and squinted at the water clock she kept across the room. "Damn," she swore softly. Charlotte winced at the epithet.

"The embroidered russet gown," Elizabeth said, nodding at Charlotte's dress as she wiped her hands on her trousers. "You must have some significant quarry tonight to bring out that one."

Charlotte smiled at her friend, a wicked gleam in her eyes. "Do you mean to tell me that you have not heard the news? That seems impossible, what with your mother being...your mother. And your sisters... Just how long have you been in here, Lizzy?" Charlotte demanded as Elizabeth began to clean her tools and lay them carefully in their places.

Elizabeth shrugged.

"Netherfield Hall has been let," Charlotte pronounced, "by a young bachelor named Bingley. He is coming tonight, along with his sisters. He is said to be quite handsome," Charlotte noted, "with 5,000 a year."

Elizabeth continued putting away her tools. "Ah, I see. The fact that he is a man, unmarried, and pleasant to look at, well he must surely be in want of a wife. But the joyous news that he also happens to possess 5,000 a year? That has no doubt lighted hearts afire all the way to Meryton."

"Laugh all you want, Lizzy," Charlotte said, "but you should know he has a friend with him..."

"Who is no doubt richer and more handsome..."

"He is, indeed, but more to the point, he is also a Member of the Royal Society for Improving Natural Knowledge." Her friend froze. "How's that for hearts afire, eh Lizzy?"

"I shall have to put on a dress," Elizabeth muttered.

"Yes, and quickly too. If you are not ready in 30 minutes, Jane and I shall have to leave without you. Your mother, father, and younger sisters have already gone ahead."

Elizabeth blew out the lamp, sliding a metal lever along its base before hanging it on the wall and walking out into the setting sun.

"And what was that lamp?"

"Oh, it's gas," Elizabeth said absently. "The chamber below keeps it under pressure and feeds a small amount at a time up through a pipe, which has a small ignition switch."

"Gas?" Charlotte repeated.

"Yes," Elizabeth replied with enthusiasm. "I was able to obtain a large canister from a coalbed up north. Wonderful stuff, though it has to be handled carefully," she noted ruefully, pointing to her right eyebrow, which had been partially blown off the day before.

"My word," was Charlotte's response. "Should you be working with such dangerous materials?"

"Tis not so dangerous," Elizabeth said dismissively, "one just has to be comfortable with volatility. Indeed, I expect there will be gas lamps all over London within a few years time."

"If you say so," Charlotte responded, "though I suspect your poor eyebrow might beg to differ. Now hurry, will you?"

25 minutes later, Elizabeth reemerged into the front parlor, face freshly scrubbed and wearing a lace-trimmed, light blue cotton gown, with a dove gray sleeveless overlay, gathered just under the bosom with an intricate metal clasp. Her hair was not curled, but was upswept in a respectable twist, with a gleaming copper headband settled into her mahogany brown strands. A tiny charm at the front of the headband jingled lightly when she walked.

"That was quick," her sister, Jane, commented with a smile.

"It's just not fair," Charlotte sighed, looking at her friend with an appraising eye. "I could spend hours in front of a mirror and not look half so good. How did you do that?"

"And I could spend a lifetime sighing over my image in a pond and my reflection would never be Jane's, who can hardly bring herself to look at a mirror at all out of sheer modesty," Elizabeth responded. "But I am content to merely ride in her wake through the admiring sea of men that froths about her." Jane swatted at her sister. "Besides, you know you are irresistible in that gown, Charlotte. Shall we?"

They arrived at the dance not long behind the rest of the Bennet family, who were riding in what Elizabeth dismissed as the "unimproved" carriage. Mrs. Bennet declared it more "elegant" and "refined," or more often just referred to it as "the safe one."

"My word, Lizzy," Charlotte panted, smoothing her hair down. "I don't know what you did to this thing to make it move so fast."

"Tis not a pretty phaeton," Jane noted, untying her bonnet, which she knew to wear from past experience, "but it will surely get you where you want to be."

Elizabeth grinned at them and ran her hand appreciatively along the metal bolts along the side before handing the reigns over to the footman. "It's amazing what a few well-placed springs and a good axle can do," she murmured.

The Assembly was quite lively, though there were decidedly more young ladies than there were gentlemen, and so dance partners were scarce. Mr. Bingley was, therefore, a most welcome addition, and fortunately, a most willing one. He danced every dance, talked with everyone he met, and was generally thought to be an amiable and well-formed man. The rest of his party, however, did not make quite as good an impression. The next day, no one could remember exchanging a single word with either of Mr. Bingley's sisters. His scientific friend, a Mr. Darcy of Derbyshire, danced only with Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, Bingley's sisters, and Mr. Hurst appeared to be in his cups and incapable of dancing from the first notes that played.

Elizabeth was sitting out one of the dances for want of a partner, when she observed Mr. Bingley with his friend, who had a pinched look on his face, as though he smelt something unpleasant. She was not quite close enough to hear their conversation, and made a quick decision to help nature along. Reaching into a hidden pocket in her overlay, she withdrew a small metal device, which she inserted into her ear.

"Did you see her, Darcy?" Charles Bingley exclaimed breathlessly to his friend. "She is exquisite - the most beautiful creature I have ever beheld." Elizabeth was pleased to see that Bingley was pointing out her sister.

"Yes, well, you seem to have found the only woman with any appeal in the entire place."

"Now, Darcy, I beg to differ. I have never met so many pleasant ladies in all my life; there are a number of very pretty girls here."

Darcy crossed his arms and made a snorting noise.

"There, right over there. That's Miss Bennet's sister. She is quite beautiful, and I understand from Miss Bennet, an accomplished inventor. That should interest you." Elizabeth looked down in alarm, as soon as she realized they were staring right at her.

"She is tolerable, I suppose. Not handsome enough to tempt me, and God save us from country mechanicals. They will bore you to death with blueprints for a better plow and their ardent desire for a patent for the backyard still."

Elizabeth pressed her lips together and returned the so-called gentleman's regard unabashedly. He was, she had to admit, rather a handsome man, with his dark curling hair and high brow. His nose was straight and fine, and his lip bow-shaped, above a strong chin. But his countenance was so proud and ill-tempered as to render him unattractive, it was later widely agreed.

She noted that he had the pin of the Royal Society in his lapel, and had some kind of monocle over his eye, which she immediately suspected had a magnifying lens. So she looked him in the eye, scowled at him, and slowly withdrew her earpiece, making no attempt to hide it. "Dreadful man," she mouthed. Elizabeth was satisfied when she saw his monocle pop out in surprise, and curtseyed lightly in his direction before fleeing to the other side of the room.

Soon, she had a small crowd of amused friends around her.

"And then his eyeglass dropped straight into his cup of punch!" she recounted.

"Truly, Lizzy?" Charlotte laughed.

"Truly! Perhaps I should seek a patent for that. An eyeglass washer for disagreeable gentlemen." Her circle of admirers roared with laughter, unaware that they had an audience across the hall.

"Eyeglass washer, indeed," Mr. Darcy muttered to himself, taking his own earpiece out.


End file.
